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For over a year I had been looking forward to our intrepid trip
to Bhutan, followed by a week on the Brahmaputra river. I know I am quite a trend-setter,
but imagine my surprise when I heard the young royals Will and Kate
would be following in our footsteps, visiting the remote Kaziranga
National Park, and then to the magical mountain kingdom - I am glad
we inspired them with our plans!

We flew into Bhutan via vibrant Kolkata, and after the
overwhelming crowds, noise and heat of that amazing city it was
extraordinary to touch down in Paro, the world's most dangerous
airport, in the land of the thunder dragon. We had arrived just in
time for the Paro Festival, or Tshechu as it is known locally. This
multi-coloured religious celebration followed a traditional pattern
with dances, rituals, music and celebration, with all the local
people turning out in glorious national dress to join the
spectacle, over a period of several days. Nothing could have
prepared us for the joyous party atmosphere, the amazing masks or
the eerily wailing music echoing across the valley.

The following day we had an early start to make the five hour
round trip hike up the mountain to Taktsang Palphug Monastery,
known as the Tiger's Nest, and the amazing scenery more than
justified the effort (although only two of our party were up for
it!).

We journeyed on to the country's capital Thimpu, where we met
the national animal of Bhutan, the extraordinary takin; witnessed
young apprentices learning the traditional crafts of embroidery,
wood carving, sculpture and weaving; visited the extraordinary
Buddha Dordenma, over 50 metres high; and admired the palaces and
temples along the way.

On the road again our minibus bounced its way along unmade roads
(Bhutanese massage, so our guide told us) up the valley to Dochula
Pass, the highest point of our journey at over 3,000 metres, and
the gateway to the lush low lying Punakha Valley. The morning was
clear and bright, but nothing had prepared us for the glorious
panorama as we reached the pass: the valley lay in misty folds
below us, and at the horizon, the imposing outline of the snowy
peaks of the Himalayas glinted in the sunshine.

After six fascinating days in this very special country, we flew
on to Guwahati, capital of India's north-eastern state of Assam,
dominated by the mighty Brahmaputra river, whose banks boast tea
gardens, lush jungle and the stunning Kaziranga National Park, a
World Heritage site which is home to two thirds of the world's
great one-horned rhinoceroses.

We joined the Mahabaahu, our home for the next seven days, to
start the journey up river through extraordinary scenery, with
sand-banks and islands newly deposited by the Brahmaputra carrying
mud and silt the long distance from its Himalayan source. Local
tribes welcomed us to their river-side settlements, totally remote
from civilisation (although even the poorest boasted solar panels
to charge their mobile phones). We marvelled at pictures straight
from our school geography books, of stately women, beautifully clad
in brightly coloured saris, picking the first flush tea of vibrant
green. We were wowed by the wonderful music and local dancing on
Mahjuli, the world's largest riverine island, and explored the
remains left by Assam's Ahom Kings, visitors from the east who
ruled Assam for 600 years. But nothing beat clambering onto
elephants at dawn to stride across the plains and watch the rhinos
grazing peacefully in the elephant grass.

On board we were nurtured and nourished, and as our magical
journey came to an end with one more glorious sunset, we looked
back on days packed with new experiences on a very special trip to
the end of the earth.